


Muscle Relaxants

by thedeadflag



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Trans Female Character, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:11:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9806666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: After a freak apartment fire, Anya needs a place to stay. Lincoln and Octavia need someone to tend to their roommate's well-being. With Valentine's Day rolling around, one of them feels pressure to make a move





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fluff, and a bit cracky, and I wrote it as I went hoping I wasn't making continuity errors.   
> I needed something positive and happy for Valentine's Day, and this lighthearted nonsense came out. Hope you enjoy!

"...and honestly, I didn't have time to grab anything, my ceiling was literally on fire and falling down into my apartment. By the time I got out of the building, the fire-fighters were arriving, and then there was an explosion, and...yeah. I lost everything." Anya explained to Lincoln and his girlfriend Octavia, the third group of people she'd talked to that day about her living situation issue. "I lived out of a hotel the first few days, but I'm about out of money, and my next pay doesn't come for another week and a half. Insurance can't come in time to help me pay for that, but it should arrive in like, a week or two. If I had anything to sell to pay, I would, but...everything I owned was in that apartment."

"Shit." Octavia stated, appearing just as stunned as a lot of the others had been, but she could see a glimmer of that familiar expression, wanting to find a way out. Anya knew unless Lincoln pulled veto that she'd have to peddle her story to yet another group of her friends in hopes of couch-surfing for a week or two until she could get on her feet again.

"That's terrible. Have you talked to your work about it?" Lincoln asked, ad thankfully she'd answered the question enough times to offer a succinct reply.

"The spa's owner is a mess, and she refuses to give me an advance, or even the pay i've already earned in this period. The security firm's got walls and walls of bureaucracy and bullshit to wade through...I'm trying, but it'll probably take a few days to get in touch with anyone who might be able to do anything, and there's no guarantee they'll help."  She clarified, drawing slow nods from the duo.  Anya checked her watch and started putting the words together in her head to excuse herself, not wanting to make the situation any more awkward than it had to be.

She was just about to speak when the front door swung open, a blonde in a thick winter coat stumbling in, and despite her clear and present beauty, the girl absolutely looked like hell warmed over.

"Hey Clarke, how was school?" Octavia called out, earning a pained grunt as the blonde staggered over to the couch and flopped down onto it face first.

Anya stared at the girl with alarm, but neither Lincoln or Octavia seemed to be too concerned. "Want me to get you some water?" Lincoln asked, more rhetorically than anything given he was leaving the living room for the kitchen. Anya spied the blonde give a silent thumbs up.

She turned her focus to Octavia and gestured with her head towards Clarke. "That normal?"

Octavia shrugged. "She's got some pieces due soon, and she gets tension headaches pretty often from stress. I don't envy her."

"I can hear you, O." Clarke spoke, voice muffled from talking into the couch cushion.

Anya glanced at the blonde again, knowing that being face-down in a couch wouldn't do much of anything to help with Clarke's ailment, and she hated seeing people in pain when they could be helped. "If you want, I can help you. It wouldn't be any trouble, and I have a lot of practice. My little sister got tension headaches all the time, and I'm _literally_ a registered masseuse."

"All I can pay you with is a half eaten bag of corn chips above the fridge." Clarke offered hesitantly.

"Clarke, there's...like...one chip left in the bag, the rest are just crumbs." Octavia chimed in, making the situation a little more amusing as Clarke lifted a single finger.

"One corn chip. I will pay you one corn chip." The blonde noted with a certain fervor just as Lincoln re-entered the living room glass in hand.

Decision apparently made, Anya moved closer and surveyed the scene, knowing it had to be in the living room, not wanting to intrude so much by insisting they move to a bedroom, even if it'd make the task easier. The couch was big and heavy, settled up against the wall, too much effort to create room for her to stand behind the girl and work. That left the armrests, so she piled all the throw pillows to one end and tapped at Clarke's shoulder.

"Get up. I'll do it pro-bono, you can keep your corn chip." Anya said, using the time Clarke needed to get vertical again to take the glass of water Lincoln brought in and fish in her bag for her emergency Advil pack.

"Lucky me." Clarke grumbled, face seemingly in a permanent wince, eyes clamped shut.

Anya took a seat beside her and, thankful the other two were paying attention, fixed them with a stare. "Can one of you two please heat me up a moist towel or two?"

Lincoln nodded, already moving towards the hallway linen closet. "I'll get a few lined up in case you need more."

"I'll get your big fuzzy sweater, Clarke." Octavia pitched in as Clarke removed her coat, leaving her in just a t-shirt, which yeah, probably wouldn't be ideal.

Lincoln and Octavia off with their tasks, Anya nudged at Clarke's nearest hand. "Unless you've got allergies to Advil, I need you to take these liqui-gels, and drink some water, okay?"

Clarke gave a simple nod, eyes opening to a squint, enough to spot the water and medicine and do what was asked of her, downing the set of pills and guzzling half of the glass of water. "Done and done."

With that out of the way, Anya rotated in place and sat up against the pile of pillows, offering herself as a backrest. "So if you could just scoot over here and rest up against me?"

"Mmmh, but mysterious woman, we haven't even gone on a date yet." Clarke shot back as she slowly made her way over, clearly tired from the strain she'd endured. "Seriously though, I hope you don't disappoint, because this thing's been killing me all day."

"That can't make school too easy. Octavia said you're working on some 'pieces'?" Anya asked, deciding to settle for small talk as Clarke sat back against her knees.

The blonde offered a small nod as Octavia returned from the hallway with an oversized fuzzy blue sweater. A little obnoxious, but one that appeared like it would be very warm. "Thanks, O." Clarke noted as she took the sweater and slipped it on. "Yeah, I go to RISD for illustration."

Anya nodded along at the information, impressed. "Wow, that's a prestigious school. You must be really good."

"I'm _okay_." Clarke countered wearily, not sounding the least bit confident, alerting her to the idea that she might need to apply some other methods in her quest to ease the girl's headache later on, perhaps.

"Well, _'world's most okay-est illustrator'_ , if you close your eyes for me I'll get started with the massage." Anya said, bringing her fingertips to rest at Clarke's temples.

"Just do your thing, please. I'm kind of dying." Clarke groused, giving the green light and letting Anya proceed with the first step of massaging the girl's temples.

Lincoln arrived shortly after, letting Anya tuck a heated towel around the back of Clarke's neck for the time being while Lincoln ventured off to his bedroom with Octavia. The heat would slowly but surely do its job as she massaged, venturing from temples to below her eyes, to her scalp, swapping the towel out once as she worked.

She'd felt Clarke relax a little as she worked away initially, but it didn't take too long after she began working at the girl's scalp to notice the soft sounds escaping Clarke. Now, as a masseuse, she was used to people letting out happy little sounds as she worked away, it was no big deal.

But she'd never really been in the position to be touched back before, so maybe she felt curiously warm when Clarke reached back a hand and began slowly rubbing up and down the outside of Anya's leg. At the very least, it seemed like a good sign that the girl was feeling a bit better.

"How are you feeling now?" She asked in a soft whisper, immediately earning a confused hum, forcing her to lean closer, lips a few inches from Clarke's ears. "How are you feeling now?"

"Mmmn, a bit better. You're really good at this." Clarke mumbled, letting out a satisfied moan as Anya moved a hand to an apparently sensitive spot of Clarke's scalp. "Why are you whispering?"

"Helps to stay as quiet as possible during this. But it's also meant to help you relax." Anya explained, drawing a thoughtful hum from Clarke.

"Like, that ASMR stuff, right? Your voice kind of gives me that tingly feeling. It's nice. Usually Animal Crossing is my go-to for relaxing but I like this, too." Clarke noted quietly in turn, surprising Anya a little with her knowledge about one of her vocal tricks, though she supposed if Clarke often got bad headaches, she'd likely done some research.

Anya moved her head nearer to Clarke's other ear s she massaged away. "I'm happy to hear that. Would you like me to keep talking while I massage your neck and shoulders?"

Clarke offered an immediate nod. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely."

Anya removed the towel, still lukewarm, and placed it behind her on the set of pillows, and then carefully stretched the neckline of the sweater to expose Clarke's shoulders. She honestly didn't have much to talk about or say, her life being largely uneventful outside of her recent housing catastrophe, so she decided to pull from her memory banks as she took her small bottle of emergency scentless massage oil from her bag and worked it into her hands.

"Dark house, by which once more I stand here in the long unlovely street...doors, where my heart was used to beat.  So quickly, waiting for a hand, a hand that can be clasp'd no more...behold me, for I cannot sleep, and like a guilty thing I creep at earliest morning to the door." Anya whispered her recital of Tennyson, shifting her head nearer to Clarke's left ear again as she smoothed the oil over the girl's skin and began to work at the iron rod-like tension there.

"He is not here, but far away. The noise of life begins again, and ghastly thro' the drizzling rain, on the bald street breaks the blank day." Anya continued, smiling at the sounds of relief openly spilling from Clarke as she worked at the knots at the base of her neck. "O days and hours, your work is this, to hold me from my proper place, a little while from his embrace, for fuller gain of after bliss..."

"There, please, there..." Clarke murmured, and she couldn't deny the request, not when she could see the tension draining from the girl's body with every passing minute. The hums and moan that followed maybe boosted her ego a little. The relieved sigh after finishing in that spot was icing on the cake.

Anya kept with it, trying to ignore how sometimes the hand at her leg would stop and squeeze, how sometimes Clarke would let out this tiny nearly silent gasp, how the frame resting against her legs would push back into her ministrations. She just continued reciting poetry, shifting from ear to ear, from Tennyson to Frost to Dickinson, until Clarke appeared suitably relaxed.

Happy with her progress and the lack of pained sounds from the other blonde, Anya gave Clarke's shoulders a light squeeze and leaned closer. "I'm going to finish with one last scalp massage, unless you think you might need more attention?"

"I feel light as a feather..." Clarke noted airily, enough of a sign for her to reach down into her bag and use some napkins to wipe off any of the excess oil. She hadn't used too much so it wasn't much of an ordeal to do a bit of cleaning, taking a moment to wipe her hands off as best as possible.

"You mind if I've still got some residue on my hands?" She asked, earning a lazy shake of the head as she used the tips of her fingers to pull Clarke's sweater back up to where it'd been before.

"Nah, but can I sit up against you? Your legs are getting uncomfortable." Clarke requested, and while she'd never gotten that complaint from her sister Lexa, she could entertain the possibility.

Anya spread her legs and helped Clarke scoot back until they were chest to back, Clarke immediately sinking back against her with a happy sigh. "Better?" She asked, more rhetorically than anything, given how content the girl seemed to be.

"Yeah..." Clarke mumbled, hand dropping back down to Anya's leg again, resuming her rather endearing ministrations. "Just a teensy bit of tension left, babe."

Anya blushed at the term of endearment, but pushed her focus away to her work again, returning her hands to Clarke's scalp gently going through her usual routine again. "Tell the truth but tell it slant...success in circuit lies too bright for our infirm delight, the truth's superb surprise. As lightning to the children eased, with explanation kind, the truth must dazzle gradually or every man be blind."

Honestly, since she had nowhere to go and nothing in particular to do otherwise, it was nice to keep herself busy, carefully and patiently eliminating the tension in her friend's roommate's head as she softly recalled poetry. Though that was more for a vocal component to the whole experience, it did serve as a fun enough exercise in memory, recalling as many of her old favourites as she could, sometimes needing an extra second or two to remember the next line, or a word.

It was maybe twenty or so minutes later, just finishing up Tennyson's 'Ulysses' when she realized that Clarke wasn't rubbing her leg anymore. And that Clarke seemed a little heavier than before, leaning up against her. Halfway curious and halfway disbelieving, Anya slackened her hold on Clarke's head, feeling it dip back against her fingers.

"Well, shit." She mumbled to herself, carefully letting Clarke's head sink back to rest against her chest before blindly reaching down near her bag for her phone. It took a minute or two of minor frustration, but eventually she got hold of it, sending a quick text to Lincoln.

**Anya Pine**  
_So Clarke fell asleep on me_

She only needed to wait half a minute for a response

**Lincoln**  
_Are you serious?_

Anya'd just finished reading the text when she heard the gentle sound of socked feet approaching.

"Holy shit, you weren't lying..." She heard Octavia whisper, the brunette carefully making her way over to the couch, a bewildered expression knit across her face. "What are you, a wizard?"

"I guess all that schooling paid off." Lincoln noted as he followed suit, also looking both curious and stunned. "She's not even moving. How long has she been asleep?"

Anya tried to pinpoint the moment in time, but couldn't quite nail it down. "Maybe...maybe ten minutes? Fifteen at most?"

"Okay, this is great. You _can't_ move." Octavia quietly insisted, a shit-eating grin on her face for some frustratingly unknown reason.

"You expect me to stay here on this couch?" Anya asked, unsure she wanted to hang around for another seven hours or so with literally nothing to do and all.

Lincoln moved to stand behind her, running a hand through her hair. "I'll get our loveseat out of storage and put it down in the workout room. You can crash here until you can find a new place."

Anya's head spun at the sudden change of heart, knowing she'd been seconds from flat out rejection earlier. "Are you serious?"

"Totally. Clarke's my best friend and she...well, she's had a bad few months and she barely sleeps. When she does, it's super restless and spotty, and she's always super tense. She's been a zombie for like, almost three months. If you can help out like this once in a blue moon, yeah...you can couchsurf here as long as you need. I gotta take care of my girl."

It was just about the oddest rationale for letting her stay at their place, playing on her skills as a masseuse. Still, while it meant she'd likely put a few more miles on her hands, it was the best deal she had on offer. She couldn't pass it up. Besides, this Clarke clearly could use some help on the day to day, and she seemed sweet.

"I'll look out for her, then. Thank you, I promise I won't get in the way." Anya claimed, having a decent feeling that this might work out after all.

If she had to be a living couch cushion for a few hours to get a roof over her head and somewhere soft to sleep, then so be it.

* * *

 

If she hadn't completely convinced Lincoln and Octavia after those first fifteen or so minutes, then she certainly had seven and a half hours later. Clarke had slept, and slept, occasionally getting slightly restless only to calm right back down once Anya ran a hand through her hair a few times. Which, according to the other two, was pure wizardry, as even before Clarke experienced some terrible unknown thing, the girl wasn't one to sleep much longer than five.

Not that Anya felt she'd done anything special that day, figuring Clarke was just over-tired and merely needed a little help for her body to recover.  After all, Clarke had woken up, showered, proceeded to go to the basement to draw for a few hours deep into the night, and then managed to get to bed on her own, still asleep by the time Anya had woken the next morning at five-thirty.

The first week had been pretty easy. She'd give Clarke a massage after classes, and usually that was good enough to get the girl relaxed and capable of doing her work pain-free. She couldn't be sure how long Clarke was sleeping for, but the other blonde stayed in her bedroom for a good enough length of time, so she didn't really question it.

Not until early in the second week, at least.

The insurance company was at that point still dragging their heels on paying her for the damages, given that the fire was deemed suspicious. Which, probably yeah, but since it wasn't started in her apartment, it wasn't her fault, so she didn't see why they couldn't get her the money to find a new place and buy new clothes. Borrowing her friend Indra's old stuff and cycling through the same three tops and two pairs of jeans would only last so long. She'd managed to scrape up enough to pay for a simple outfit for her spa job, but washing it every day was a hassle, and her security job was giving her the stink-eye for not being entirely compliant with code.

The only good news was that her father's old baseball card collection had been separately insured, and apparently she'd be getting something from that this week. How much, she couldn't be sure, given she never kept tabs on it, and he'd paid the annual premium just before he'd passed eight months back. There were only, like, two or three dozen cards, so she couldn't imagine it'd net her more than a hundred or so at most. Enough for some new clothes and pizza, and that wasn't such a bad way for him to help her out one last time.

Thankfully, she'd be getting paid at the end of the week, so that was a plus and something she very much looked forward to.

It was Tuesday and she was fresh off a long shift working security, happy to finally get in around quarter to one. She definitely needed the money, so she hadn't complained about essentially going from the spa to the agriculture museum to spend a few boring hours guarding it from danger. She'd likely have to skip her morning workout and sleep in to keep decently rested, probably only to be woken up by Lincoln when he'd come down to lift weights at seven.

Once she'd showered and brushed her teeth, she made her way into the basement for a good night's rest. Or, well, that had been the plan until she saw the dim light of Clarke's workbench lit up. She hadn't been able to give a massage that day, working both jobs and all, so she made her way closer, not needing more than a second or two to realize Clarke was slumped over, staring blankly at her newest work, looking utterly exhausted.

"Clarke?" She called out as she approached, not garnering a response at all, not even a flinch. Concerned, she rested a hand on the girl's shoulder, startling her out of her haze, even if she still seemed disoriented. "Clarke, it's late. You're tired."

Clarke shook her head slightly, returning her bleary focus to her art again. "Can't sleep."

"You don't say." Anya shot back, rolling her eyes. "It's one in the morning and you're sitting on the least comfortable looking stool I've seen in my life, and I'm pretty sure I've seen one that was literally made of rust and tetanus."

"Yeah, well, I have a lot to do." Clarke argued, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Anya took a steadying breath, pushing her mind away from her tendency to be weak for blushing beauties and towards the present concern. "Right, because sitting there in a daze doing nothing is vital to your success as an illustrator. You need rest, come on."

"That's not..." Clarke started, letting out a yelp as Anya took hold of her by the waist and lifted her up, putting the last year's workouts in prep for a firefighter's exam to good use. "What are you doing?! Let me down!"  

"You're going to bed, Clarke. You can't function without sleep." She noted calmly as she made her way up the stairs slowly, careful not to bonk Clarke's head on anything.

"Well, I can't sleep, I...I just...I'm too cold." Clarke stammered out hastily, not sounding very convincing.

Anya let her down at the top of the stairs, blocking the entrance back to the basement as she cocked an eyebrow. "I'll gather blankets. I know Lincoln and Octavia have plenty of extras from their blanket fort excursion last spring."

"Blankets won't help. It's too cold." Clarke bit back, face turning much redder as those deep blue eyes averted.

Anya wasn't an idiot, she could read between the lines. "I've got something to take care of that, you just wash up."

Unimpressed, Clarke marched off, thankfully making the turn into the bathroom instead of the privacy of the bedroom. Anya slowly made her way back down to the basement and grabbed her phone, bringing it back up with her. She wasn't sure she was making the right call just yet, but Lincoln and Octavia tasked her with taking care of Clarke.

It wasn't a difficult task; hell, she enjoyed it, she liked knowing she could help ease the girl's discomfort. Yet, there was a difference in a massage and what Clarke insinuated she needed.

Still, she found herself waiting across from the bathroom door when Clarke exited, freshly run through her night-time skincare regimen. The other blonde looked her over with curious, wary eyes, eventually darting up to meet Anya's gaze when they didn't seem to find what she was looking for.

"Did you...did you bring the thing?" Clarke asked hesitantly. Anya just gestured to the bedroom door, letting Clarke lead the way in and shut the door behind them. "There's nothing here."

Anya took a seat at the end of Clarke's bed, deciding not to look around, knowing it wasn't her place to investigate. She was there to help. "I can sleep with you if it'd help." She stated, ignoring Clarke's wide-eyed shock and the way that the girl bit her lip. "I'm sort of a furnace, to where my ex couldn't sleep in the same bed with me, she'd get too warm. So if you're cold, I can help. I can always leave once you're out."

"I'm a restless sleeper." Clarke added quietly, making the decision even easier.

"Then I can stay, if you'd prefer." She offered, resting back on her elbows.

Clarke rounded the bed and slowly slipped under the covers, though her eyes remained fixed on her, face twisted in confusion. "Why would you do that? What do you get out of it?

Anya rolled over onto her stomach and lifted her head to meet her gaze dead on again, needing Clarke to see she was sincere. "I'm here until I get my own place. If it means sleeping on the loveseat in the basement, sure, fine. If it means sleeping here to help you get the rest you need, then I'm happy with that. You could consider it me paying you back for your hospitality."

"And that's it? This is for the sake of _hospitality_?" Clarke's disbelief was palpable, but it didn't make Anya's words any less true, so she decided to take the direct approach.

"Clarke, you're a beautiful woman. I would be lucky to share a bed with you in some non-platonic way. That's not what this is, though...this is me wanting to help you. This is me wanting to thank you. And...in a much smaller sense...this is me wanting to sleep in a real damn bed for the first time in a while." She explained, halfway adoring how red Clarke's cheeks were, but by the glimmer in the girl's eye, she could tell her words were finally received.

Carefully, Clarke lifted the covers beside her, gesturing for Anya to get in, and she didn't need to be told twice. Anya slipped under and scooted closer to Clarke, leaving an arm up to give the girl some options.

Clarke hesitated at first, but then rolled over onto her side, shuffling backwards until Anya was spooning her. "Is this okay?" Clarke asked softly, as if Anya would ever complain.

"Whatever you need." Anya answered, slinging one arm around Clarke's waist while the other combed through the artist's hair, occasionally stilling to provide a brief massage, or to gently run her nails over Clarke's scalp.

Within minutes, Clarke was out, and it didn't take long for Anya to follow suit after a long day's work.

* * *

 

The rest of the week followed in the same way; She'd return from work and engage in some lovely discussions with Clarke as she administered her massage. She'd head downstairs at the end of her day, ferry Clarke upstairs to wash up, and they'd share the bed. In the mornings, she'd slip out, and would be finishing her morning workout by the time Lincoln arrived to start his.

When Friday rolled around, Anya couldn't help but be a little excited. She'd gotten both of her pay stubs, meaning she finally had money. Not a lot of money, but something, so once the payments went through mid-afternoon, she went out to grab some pizza, figuring they could celebrate a little, and she could pay her friend back a little bit for the favour.

Two larges in hand, she stepped into the house, eyes scanning the area ad quickly spotting Lincoln on the living room couch. "Hey, I brought food."

Lincoln's eyes lit up at the sight, and Anya was pretty sure the low noise she heard was his stomach rumbling. "Your pay came in?"

"Yep! Not enough to put a deposit on a place yet, but soon. I figured it wouldn't hurt to celebrate a bit of progress with some food." Anya explained, grabbing a place-mat from the kitchen and setting the pizza up on the living room coffee table.

"Oh, hey..." Lincoln started, grabbing a letter from the coffee table and handing it to her. "This came for you."

Curious, given she hadn't received any mail since forwarding it to Lincoln's temporarily, Anya tore it open and pulled out the note. The first thing she noticed was the insurance company's letterhead, the one her father had set up to insure his cards.

As usual, there was plenty of legal jargon, but when she got to the settlement amount, she immediately felt faint, head spinning as she tried to focus on the amount, because it couldn't have said one hundred thirty-eight thousand and four hundred dollars.

"So, what's it say?" Lincoln asked with a mouthful of pizza, shooting her an expectant look.

Anya could hardly believe it but the number didn't change as seconds stacked up. "It...I don't..."

Lincoln, as always, took her surprise as a bad sign, entirely alarmed as he leaned closer. "What happened this..." He started, grabbing the piece of paper as he jolted to his feet. "Holy _shit_!"

"I could, like, buy a place of my own. Put a down-payment on a place, and still have money leftover." Anya mused openly, brain working through all the possibilities. "Who knew that old musty box of cards was worth so much?"

"Okay...okay, that's great, Anya! Actually..." Lincoln noted, eyes narrowing inn thought for a moment before he plopped back down beside her. "Okay, so I wasn't going to say anything, but I think I should now."

Anya picked up a celebratory slice of pizza, knowing nothing could burst her bubble today. "What's up?"

"You and Clarke." Anya couldn't help but freeze in place at Lincoln's words; he'd always been a tremendously deep sleeper, she figured there was no way he would have heard them going up and down the stairs. "You two are sleeping together, right? Because Valentine's Day is coming up in three days, and now that you have money, you should do something special for her."

Anya held up a finger as she mowed down on her slice, knowing she'd need food in her stomach and energy coursing through her veins to handle whatever thoughts Lincoln had been having about her and his roommate.

"Okay, number one...I've been sleeping with her. But just sleeping. She says she gets too cold to sleep, which is pretty real with how chilly her body tends to be, but I think she's a little lonely, too. And I'd much prefer a bed to a cramped loveseat, so I agreed to help her sleep." Anya detailed, not daring to look Lincoln's way for worry of skepticism. "Number two, we're not dating. I've just been helping her with her headaches, and helping her sleep. That's it. Number three, how the hell did you figure it out?"

Lincoln exhaled loudly, slumping forward, elbows on his knees. "Clarke's graduating this spring and...well, O and I were talking about some family planning, and..."

"And you were awake, having sex." Anya filled in the blanks, frowning at her luck as she nodded. "Excellent. Well, I do wish you two the best of luck with that, even if the images are seared into my mind, now."

She halfway fell into some throw pillows at his light shove. "Anyways, we heard you. O didn't piece it together, but I figured it out pretty quick." He continued, giving Anya a little hope that Octavia wouldn't try to rain hellfire down on her. "Still, even if you're not dating Clarke, you _could_ be. She's single."

"And talented, and sweet, and all that other good stuff. You don't have to sell me on the prospect of dating Clarke Griffin. She asked if I had any ulterior motives the first time we slept together, and I told her that even though I'd be really lucky to date her, I was just trying to help out. So she knows I'm interested. She hasn't made a move." Anya explained, knowing it might make her sound like a fool, but at least she'd stop Lincoln from getting ahead of himself.

"Okay, but she's been busy as hell these past few months, and she'll have her last midterm illustration due this afternoon. She's had that on her mind, not dating, but she'll have time for it coming up. At least enough to see if you two have a chance, so maybe buy her stuff for Valentine's? See if she's interested? She hates Mondays as-is, so it'd really make her day." Lincoln countered, and okay, maybe the big lug was making a bit of sense.

Still, she wasn't going to jump in feet first and humiliate herself. She'd have to be tactical about it, for both her and Clarke's sakes. "Okay, but I'm not going to pressure her. She doesn't deserve that. I can give her a nice day whether she spends time with me or not, so I'll put the ball in her court, as the saying goes."

Lincoln rested a hand on her leg, giving it a slight comforting squeeze. "Hey, at least you're giving it a shot. You've had a few bad exes, Anya...you deserve to get back in the saddle with someone who won't screw you up or screw around on you."

"Lincoln, dear, don't jinx it. And you realize I don't have a home to host a romantic evening at?" Anya asked, earning an easy laugh.

"You're crafty, you'll think up something. You always do."

Anya weighed her options, wondering exactly how resourceful she could be. Knowing banks closed in a few hours, she grabbed her things and headed back out to finish processing the money into her account. If she wanted to set things up for Monday, she'd need the weekend to prep.

* * *

 

Mondays were the worst.

It was an inarguable fact, yet still, the universe managed to make it worse by tossing Single's Awareness Day into the mix. Not that she maybe couldn't have found a way to spend part of the day with a certain someone, but she had a full slate of classes until four, and Anya wouldn't get home until around five, and that's if her security job didn't call her in. Clarke didn't want to ask the other girl out only to get rejected by a work schedule of all things; Anya needed money to survive, after all, so of course she'd pick working the job over spending an evening with her.

It just made the day a little drearier was all. At least she had her recent assignments out of the way, giving her a bit of a breather. Sure, her big ones would be due in two short months, but she could at least give herself a week to regroup before jumping back into it again.

Her weekend had been clear and fairly relaxing, and at the very least she'd had a good start to her morning, with her favourite breakfast made and set aside. She suspected Octavia, of course, but both of her roommates just shrugged and acted as if they had no idea who made it. Anya had already left by then, and hadn't been able to spend a single breakfast with her due to work during her time crashing at their place, so it couldn't have been her. The food had been a pleasant if confusing surprise, but it didn't change that she had to take the miserable bus commute to spend most of her day gaining a higher education.

Although she still had a full morning of professors lecturing and critiquing her, there was always her self-appointed lunch break to allow her a reprieve, thankfully, which she was desperate to enjoy after a few long hours of hard work.

The cafeteria seemed busier than usual, less standing room available due to a number of couples taking up larger tables than they should have been to enjoy a Valentine's Day lunch together. Still, there was always a corner of the caf that was free; it wasn't always the comfiest, but there was a table-less cushioned bench that, if she sat facing backwards, offered a decent-sized ledge and a fantastic view out of the window. It'd been her lunch destination for years, and because it was out of the way and tiny, next to no one ever sat there.

Which was why she found herself confused as she approached, noticing some heavily tattooed bearded man standing right beside her usual seat, eyes scanning the area with clear uncertainty. Clarke Griffin wasn't one to be intimidated, of course, so maybe she went over to survey the scene before getting her food.

"Hi, you look like you might be lost." She offered as she approached, halfway startling the man. "Anything I can do to help?"

Usually people were polite enough to respond, but the man just pulled out his phone and flicked through some menus or something for half a minute. Honestly, she was only sort of trying to help. However, when his face tilted up again, relief flooded his face.

"Clarke Griffin?" He asked expectantly, earning an easy if confused nod. "Great, this is for you. Have a nice lunch, miss."

Clarke took the offered paper bag, which she hadn't noticed up until then, and watched the man leave. Sure, she made a habit of sitting there all the time, but it was baffling to think anyone else might have noticed.

She took her usual seat and set the bag up on the ledge, its familiar aroma rather enjoyable. Curious, she reached in and pulled out the small white box that was seemingly on top of the pile.

Clarke didn't expect much, but certainly not the two raspberry-glazed heart-shaped donuts inside. She could feel her cheeks turning red as she stared at the evidence that maybe she was being given a Valentine's Day treat for the first time in two years, because aside from the heart-shape, those were her favourite donuts from the place across town she'd go to once in a blue moon. She savored the anticipation for a moment before reaching in and pulling out a tall steel thermos, much higher quality than she'd usually buy.

Clarke unscrewed the cap and immediately felt herself melting at the smell of hot chocolate, her favourite blend from her favourite coffee shop a few blocks away. Whoever had done this knew her favourite things. That trimmed the list considerably, and had her thinking Octavia was trying to boost her spirits again. To be fair, with a smile twitching at her lips and her body fueled with the burst of joy that her favourite food could provide, O had definitely succeeded. She'd have to thank her later.

Lastly, she pulled out a meal container with her favourite grilled chicken salad from the bistro near her place. She was just about ready to dig into the wonderfully thoughtful meal when she spotted a red envelope at the bottom. Clarke immediately tore it open, finding a small piece of card-stock with her favourite guitar-wielding dog on one side.

"You K.K. Slid into my heart..." Clarke mumbled as she read, rolling her eyes at the pun even as her smile bloomed, perhaps a tiny bit of laughter bubbling up in her chest at the valentine. "Okay, that's kinda sweet. O didn't have to go through all this trouble."

She immediately pulled out her phone, pushing together the items of her gift for a quick picture before sending it and a text off to her best friend.

**Clarke Griffin**  
_You didn't have to do this, but I love you for lighting up my Monday. Thank you so much, O!_

Clarke was midway through her delightful salad when she got a return text.

**Octavia**  
_Holy crap! Uh I'd love to take credit but I'm not a wizard. I've been swamped at work all morning._

**Octavia**  
_But congrats on the valentine! Don't really get that weird warbly dog thing but you do you, babe_

Clarke frowned at the texts, suddenly not so sure about the day's events anymore. If it hadn't been Octavia, and it definitely wasn't Lincoln by relation, then the list of suspects narrowed to an unlikely few.

There was Raven, but she was away in Boston, doing grad school and putting in eighteen hour days. Unlikely. There was Finn, but she doubted he'd yet again break the restraining order put on him, though anything was possible. Monty and Miller could have, but they were always so up into each other's business this time of the year, their tunnel-vision was sort of the thing of legends. She couldn't imagine them spending their money and time on her when they'd been completely focused on each other the past four Valentines Days. She knew Bellamy still had a lingering thing for her, but Octavia had him under threat of castration if he even attempted to make a move on her, so that wasn't likely either.

Which left a group of even unlikelier people and Anya. Anya, who could have easily learned what she needed from Octavia or Lincoln. Yet, the same Anya who was dirt poor due to having everything she owned destroyed in a fire, without compensation coming in. It seemed unlikely that the woman would spend much needed coin on her rather than building the money for a rent deposit at a new place.

Still, all factors made her the most likely remaining option. And maybe, just maybe, Clarke felt enticed by that possibility. Anya had incredibly talented hands, a good empathetic heart, and was cute as heck.  Not to mention, Anya had admitted attraction to her, which was kind of huge, but hadn't taken any steps to escalate things between them.

"Or...maybe this is her doing that..." She mused to herself as she got back to her meal, glancing at the cute heart-shaped donuts and the valentine. If it was Anya, the woman was off to a great start, since food really was a pretty direct path to her heart. Food and comfort, which Anya provided in spades.

"Guess I'll just have to see when I get home..."

* * *

 

Clarke swore she was on the precipice of another headache as she waited for the bus, the frigid wind not exactly helping as it made her already tense shoulders and neck tighter. Her coat was four years old, maybe it was time to get a new one, but the good ones were always so expensive.

As per usual in the winter, her bus was a good ten minutes late and packed full of people, forcing her to squeeze on and share a pocket of stale air with the others in her vicinity. It was a decently long commute to school, slowed a bit more by how packed it was, but the closer they got to North Providence, the sparser the passengers got, until she could hold onto a pole on her own without worrying over bumping into anyone, even if all the seats were still filled.

Still, as passengers filtered out of the bus, it gave her a better look at some of the others remaining. She had a minor hobby of people-watching, and it was interesting to look at the couple huddled together, clearly enjoying the day's festivities. She could see the stress and anticipation on the faces of others, who she imagined had plans for later that night.

Three stops from when she would get off, Clarke watched a huge tall bearded man step onto the bus carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. She almost wanted to laugh, but it was the dead of winter, and flowers were always nice to have when nothing had been in bloom for months. She watched him look around for somewhere to sit or stand, apparently finding the back of the bus to be amenable as she had.

Except, as he neared, she realized he was making a beeline for her, forcing her to think back to if she'd ever seen him before in her life. His face didn't ring any bells, and she was pretty sure she looked like a deer in the headlights when he stopped in front of her.

"Hi, are you Clarke Griffin?" He asked, mouth curling into an excited smile as he peered down at her. Her fight or flight instincts were kind of failing her, leaving her only the energy to nod. "Great! Happy Valentine's Day, miss!"

And like that, the bus slowed to a halt for their next stop, and the man was out the doors in a hurry, leaving her holding the massive bouquet. Clarke brought the collection low enough to peer in, heart stilling at the sight of two dozen lavender roses with a red envelope tucked inside.

It would have cost a fortune. That was the long and short of it, really, especially combined with her lunch. With Anya's troubles, that almost certainly eliminated her newest acquaintance from the running. Despite the wonderful gift, she couldn't help but feel disappointed, having wanted it to be Anya.

Clarke carefully picked the envelope out and opened it up, thankful it wasn't sealed. Like before, it was a small piece of coloured card-stock, this time with Fauna from Animal Crossing featured.

"You're a deer to me..." She read, laughing at the pun, thinking it was sweet that her valentine was using characters from her favourite game to celebrate the day.

It didn't change that she wished Anya was her valentine. So maybe she loved the flowers, and the food, and the valentines but maybe she was also a little crestfallen when she got home, stepping through the front door carefully so she wouldn't crush the flowers.

"Holy shit! What the hell is that?!" She heard Octavia yell out from the living room, footsteps quickly pitter-pattering over to her as she took off her boots and coat. "Wow, _someone_ went all out!"

Clarke nodded, handing the bouquet to Octavia, who happily too it and gave the flowers a sniff. "Some guy delivered them to me on the bus. It's all really sweet, I just don't know who it is." She noted, grabbing a vase from the kitchen and filling it with some water. "Have...have you seen Anya lately?"

"She got home early like...a half hour ago? Carried something downstairs, and then five minutes later, she was gone again." Octavia answered with a shrug, removing the flowers from the paper wrapping, carefully feeding it into the vase. It was a tight fit, but it all worked out, thankfully. The flowers really were lovely.

Curious, Clarke made her way into the basement, seeing nothing out of place around the loveseat in the workout room. However, when she stepped into the larger basement area with the laundry machine and her work table, she easily spotted a box atop her stool.

As confused as she was, her heart was thrumming away in her chest, propelling her towards her work station. As she neared the pink box, she found herself wondering how. How could Anya afford to spend over a hundred dollars on flowers, and likely a good fifty on her meal earlier, and now something more. With Anya dealing with financial hardship, it didn't make sense, and yet it seemed the other girl had spent Friday's paychecks treating her.

It didn't make sense, and yet, she had an eyewitness.

Clarke placed the box on her table and sat down, needing to take a deep steadying breath before she could pull the bright red ribbon away, loosening its hold on another red envelope. Yearning for answers, Clarke opened it up, met by a letter of gentle rolling cursive instead of another Animal Crossing character on cardstock.

_Dear Clarke_

_I think we can both agree that Mondays are the worst, but sometimes special days fall on them and can improve their character. For what it's worth, I hope I've managed to brighten your day and make the start of your week more enjoyable. This would all have been worth it if I've managed to bring a single smile to your face today._

_These past two weeks have been hard for me, but being around you has made it easier. Listening to you describe your art during your massages, all the small talk when you'd get back from school, the way you seem to insist that I receive some affection while I help with your headaches, it's all meant more than you know. You're a bright, passionate, beautiful person, and I meant what I said the other night, that I'd be incredibly lucky to count you as a special person in my life._

_And for that I wanted to be your valentine, and hope that maybe I could manage to make your day a little happier with some good food, pretty flowers, and...now...some things to help you have a relaxing evening._

_If you don't share my feelings, then no harm, no foul, dear. I just wanted to brighten your day, and I hope that these last gifts can give you a pleasant evening to cap the day off. If you do think you might feel something between us as well, then I rented a place for a few days. Perhaps you could join me and we could enjoy these gifts together. There's directions and money at the bottom of the box...whether you use it for a cab here, or to order in some food, it's entirely your call, Clarke. I only wish for you to be happy._

_However you decide, I'm glad to have met you_

_Yours,  
Anya_

Clarke set down the letter and let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed that Anya had done all this, especially with no guarantee of reciprocation. It'd all apparently been just to make her happy, and well, mission accomplished on that front. She pulled the red wrapping paper away, revealing some bath bombs, massage oils, some linen sprays, and a few other spa-grade products she couldn't find the time to investigate, not when she knew she had somewhere to be.

She quickly packed everything back up and carried the box back upstairs and to the foyer, setting it down so she could dig through her bag for her phone.

"Whoa, where's the fire? You literally _just_ got home." Octavia teased. Clarke knew her best friend would be starving for company until Lincoln arrived at six to take her out on their date night.

"It was Anya." Clarke answered, taking hold of her phone and pulling it free of the mess in her tote. "Breakfast, lunch, the roses, this. It was _Anya_."

Octavia looked at her as if she had two heads, not that she blamed her given she was still trying to make sense of it. " _Anya_ Anya? 'Magic hands masseuse' Anya? 'No money or material belongings' Anya?" Octavia asked, each question laced with more and more disbelief along with more than a hint of anger. O, after all, hated being out of the loop.

Clarke could only nod as she checked the coordinates of Anya's location in her phone. She could grab a bus for free in fifteen minutes, and walk five minutes to Anya's, saving the money for their dinner. "Yeah, I...I don't know how, but...yeah. She did all this for me. To make me _happy_."

With that last sentence, any tension or frustration melted out of her best friend. "Here I was, about to find her and harangue her for not telling me she had a thing for you, but...she makes you happy?"

"I mean, it's early, but...yeah. I've got a good feeling about her." She admitted offering a shy shrug, not really used to being the center of attention that way.

"Well what are we waiting for?! Let's get you spruced up for your date!" Octavia cheered, taking hold of her hand and dragging her through the house.

"I don't think she'll care, O." Clarke contested, even if she followed her friend and let O start rummaging through her closet. Octavia, of course, just scoffed at her assertion. "I'm serious, she bought me bath bombs and massage oil, and offered to enjoy them with me."

Octavia peeked her head out of the closet, all-wide eyed and mouth gaping. "What the hell kinda first date is that? Who bathes and nude massages on the first date?"

Clarke just shrugged, unsure exactly how to explain. "I, uh...I mean, we've already slept together, so I gue..."

"You WHAT?!" Octavia shrieked, jumping out of the closet this time. "You two slept together?! And you didn't tell me?"

It was the way O's voice tapered off, growing softer there at the end, that made it clear her friend just felt left out. "We literally only slept together. I've been having trouble, you know, and she noticed. Offered to sleep with me so I wouldn't be cold, and I'd have someone to, you know, hold onto. Even said she'd be lucky to be dating me while sleeping together, but that she just wanted to help me. She cares about me, O." She explained, watching as her best friend's expression softened into what could be described as awe. "So like...between that, and the head massages, I just think this is all geared around me being comfortable, relaxed, and happy. She wouldn't do anything I wasn't comfortable with, I'm certain."

"And you'd be cool rocking the nude look with her? Like, are you out to her?" Octavia continued, offering up an entirely reasonable concern that, while she didn't have an explicit answer to yet, she had a good sense.

"I'm not, but I think she'll be good with me. But if she's not..." Clarke started, rolling her eyes as Octavia shaped her hands into pincers.

"...I'll pluck her eyes out and kick her down the stairs. No lie." Octavia finished predictably, once again reciting that morbid idea.

"And just like last time, and the time before, I'll remind you that that's a very dark, specific fantasy to keep having, O." She chimed in, laughing at Octavia's categorical dismissal as her best friend returned to the closet to resume her search. "Seriously though, I have a good feeling. I think she's someone I can trust."

Octavia emerged from the closet with an armful of clothes. "Well, trust that even if she'd be cool with you showing up as is on a day she's spent seriously wooing you, you'll maybe want to make her feel special after your bath together or massage. Nothing wrong with changing into something nice before you go to bed. And then something equally nice come the morning, since you don't have classes until the afternoon on Tuesdays."

Clarke couldn't argue with that, figuring Anya wouldn't mind how she'd look, given how affectionate the woman had been with her on her numerous occasions where she'd looked and felt terrible, but that maybe Anya would like if she went the extra mile.

Mind made up, she plopped down on the bed and gestured for Octavia to show her what she found, hoping they could finish this up quickly and get her on her way.

* * *

 

Clarke still wasn't sure how Anya had managed to do what she'd done today, but she gave her credit; the apartment building she'd set herself up in was kind of nice. Clarke took the elevator to the fifth floor and made her way down the well-lit hallway, figuring her date had signed up for one of those three or four day VRBO rentals, which Clarke figured could be a nice change of pace from a hotel setting.

When she got to 507, she checked her compact, making sure the makeup O had applied was still intact, and that her braided up-do hadn't come loose anywhere. Satisfied, she lightly rapped on the door, taking a steadying breath to calm her swell of nerves a tiny bit.

The door opened slowly, enough for Anya to peek out with unfettered hope shining in her eyes before swinging it open completely, a pink tint rising into her cheeks. "You...you came."

"You managed to make me enjoy a Monday. You made my day with...with the adorable valentines, the delicious food, the gorgeous flowers...everything. How could I not come?" Clarke asked, shooting her valentine a grin, a large part of her heart melting at the sight of sheer joy and relief overtaking Anya's expression.

"I'm glad you're here."  Anya noted stepping to the side, letting Clarke stroll in.

The apartment wasn't huge, it looked like a one-bedroom, maybe, but it was nice. And the couch looked very comfortable, for what it was worth. She took off her boots and coat, carefully setting her bag down beside the couch. "Nice place you got here. What made you feel like upgrading?"

Anya moved into the open kitchen and poured two glasses of water, handing one to her. "My dad left me a small box of baseball cards when he died. They were insured...I figured they'd be worth, like, a hundred dollars or something at most. Turns out I was wrong."

Clarke sat down on the armrest, eyebrows ascending up her forehead. "I...uh...okay, that makes more sense. What, we talking a thousand? Two thousand?"

"More like a hundred thirty-eight thousand." Anya clarified, and Clarke immediately spit-taked, water spraying across the leather couch. "Yeah, I had a similar reaction."

 "Wow, that...that changes things. I guess you won't be staying at our place anymore." She added, wanting to sound happy, even if she knew her attempt wasn't the most convincing. The last two weeks had been wonderful. She was going to miss Anya.

"Well, the good thing is I can leave my security job and just focus on working at the spa until I can test to be a firefighter. I could find a place close to yours. I could stop by after work to keep up the massage sessions...things don't have to change too drastically." Anya said, immediately renewing her hope that maybe Anya could be in this for the long haul. That Anya could afford to leave and go anywhere, date anyone, and yet she was still looking at her like she hung the stars.

To say she was flattered and excited would be an understatement, but she hadn't gone this long without getting her heartbroken without being careful. Clarke reached out, waiting until Anya had taken hold of her hand before speaking. "Why me?"

Anya stared at her like she was an idiot for a few seconds before seeming to realize she was serious. "Clarke, you're...okay, look. If I haven't made myself clear enough...from my words before tonight, or with my letter...I bought two dozen lavender roses for you. One for every hour in the day, because I can't stop thinking about you. You enchant me, Clarke. I won't pretend to know everything about you, but I know enough to care for you and want to try and build something together."

"You have no idea how happy that makes me. I just didn't want to be a burden, making you come around to help me out all the time. Before today I...I didn't dare hope you might like me back. I thought I was just someone you maybe felt obliged to help." Clarke explained with a sheepish smile, knowing that it must have sounded a bit silly after the day's events, but she just hadn't been sure.

Anya gaped at her, the edges of her eyes crinkling in a pained stare like she'd just been punched in the gut. "A...a _burden_? Clarke..." Anya started with a frown, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, as if the mere notion of it was too sad to speak about. "Look, Octavia and Lincoln said I could stay if I helped you. I took that deal because it was the only one on the table and because you were in pain, and I'd been happy to help without any plan of compensation. It was a win-win for me...I'd get a roof over my head, and I'd get to help you and spend time with you. You were never a burden."

Clarke gave Anya's hand a tug, bringing her close enough to rest her forehead against Anya's chest. "Maybe I was fishing there a little, but I'm...relieved. Thank you for being patient with me." Clarke noted softly, allowing herself a deep breath. "For years, all my friends would tease me by calling me 'princess' as a joke, but...today's the only day I've felt like one, in a _good_ way."

"You deserve to feel special, Clarke." Anya stated, voice saturated in conviction, and while Clarke couldn't fathom why, it made her heart feel full, knowing someone like Anya cared so much.

"And you do...make me feel special. And I want you to know you're special to me, too." Clarke continued, giving her valentine's hand a squeeze before reaching down and pulling the pink box from her bag. "I was thinking...maybe we could use a bath bomb together?"

Anya's eyes absolutely lit up, warm amber tones gazing back at her. "I'd love that." The woman said with hardly restrained wonder. "I got this place because the bed's incredible and the tub's perfect for two people. I'd love to share it with you."

Clarke got up off the armrest and stood face to face with Anya, barely a breath apart. "There's just one thing left I need to know, babe."

Anya's warm brown eyes searched hers, curious and without a hint of concern. "Name it, darling."

The term of endearment had her knees feeling weak and on the verge of collapse for a moment, but she steadied herself and pushed forward, knowing it was important. "Before we get serious, I just need you to know that I'm a trans woman. Does that change anything between us?"

If anything, Anya's expression softened even more. "It only makes me happy and honoured to know even more about you. I want to know you, Clarke, and I want you to know me." Anya spoke, reaching up a hand to cup her cheek, the warmth of her touch and her voice too much for Clarke not to lean into it. "I like _you_ , darling. I want to be close to _you_."

 It was all so much, Anya's tender touch, her sweet words bringing her heart into bloom, her gentle comforting aroma of vanilla-lavender; Clarke had never felt so safe and desired, bringing her to angle her head upwards as she pulled Anya into a kiss.

There was a certain breathlessness to being swept up in the moment, the clumsy grasping of hands on each other's frames, the soft fervent mashing of lips, both of them just needing to be closer, to share themselves. Maybe Clarke felt a little surprised to quickly find herself perched atop the lip of the couch, legs wrapped around Anya's hips as her valentine held her steady, drawing her deeper, deeper, wondering how she could be falling so quickly with her heart soaring higher than it'd ever been.

When Anya pulled away ever so slightly, Clarke felt lighter at the sight, the glassiness in Anya's eyes just drawing her closer for another fleeting kiss in hopes of comforting whatever emotions they'd stirred up. "Hey, what's swirling around in that pretty head of yours, babe?"

Anya's eyes fluttered shut, tending a stray tear streaming down her cheek as she let out a shuddering breath. "It's just been a while for me since I felt like this. I...please just..." Anya started, before letting out a frustrated sigh, wiped her tears away. "Sorry, I'm just being an idiot."

"No, baby, no...whatever it is, you can talk to me." Clarke urged, bringing their foreheads together. "Please open your eyes for me, Anya."

A reluctant sigh escaped her valentine, but Anya's beautifully sad amber eyes did slowly open, even if her gaze was lowered. "It's nothing you need to worry about. It's just...I've had bad luck. My last three girlfriends all cheated on me and fucked with my head, and I just got scared for a second. But that's not on _you_ , that's my shit to deal with, so I'm just...I'm being an _idiot_ , because here we are, having our first kiss, and I'm so freaking happy, but I'm still trembling at the thought of being hurt again."

Clarke felt a piece of her heart chip away as Anya relayed her history, not knowing how anyone could hurt such a wonderful person, a pit in her stomach burning in empathy, knowing full well how deeply those who were closest could cause harm.

She reached up, cupping Anya's face with her hands, thumbs lightly brushing away her valentine's tears. "I'm so sorry, Anya. You're not being an idiot, you're being _human_ , baby. I'd be lying if I said my past didn't have me worrying on my way over here, or when I was outside the door. My...I had an ex who had been cheating on his _real_ girlfriend with me. I was just his fetish, it turned out, and...anyways, I know how much it can hurt. I _promise_ you...if I ever have a problem with us, I'll come to you, I'll talk with you. We'll figure it out."

Anya took a steadying breath as she leaned into Clarke, teeth gently gnawing on that lovely lower lip of hers. "I believe you. Thank you, darling."

"None needed, Anya. But I'm definitely feeling that bath right about now. I just want to curl up with you for a while." Clarke murmured, angling closer to draw Anya into another slow, lingering kiss, smiling into it when Anya wholeheartedly returned her affection. "And then after, we can order food, since I took the bus here. And we can just have a nice night in? Get to know each other?"

"That sounds perfect." Anya answered with a growing smile, before suddenly lifting Clarke up off the top of the couch, carrying her through the small condo and into the bathroom. It all had her feeling like royalty, and when she saw the glorious tub, she couldn't help but think that she'd been missing something in her life.

Anya set her down atop an equally lovely toilet and went about gathering supplies, bringing over the bath items she'd given Clarke, keeping two fluffy robes nearby, and setting some towels up near the tub, hanging one partly folded towel over one end of it.

Clarke took that brief period of distraction to slip out of her clothes, feeling a little bit in awe at how she didn't feel a hint of reservation at being naked around Anya. She felt entirely safe, secure in herself and the notion that she was cared for and desired. With everyone before, she'd felt at least a little trepidation, a little reserved, but she wanted Anya to see her, she wanted Anya to know every inch of her.

And maybe she wasn't ready for sex yet, though she had an inkling that Anya wasn't either, which eliminated any remaining inhibitions as she leaned up against the nearby wall, watching Anya set everything up and get the water running.

 "When you get your own place, what do you think it'll be like?" Clarke asked idly, curious as to how Anya would answer. She'd seen the woman move about her home, but she'd never seen Anya's old place. A person's home was a good way to get a sense of the person, she felt.

"I think it'd probably be a lot like this. I don't need a lot of space, but I'm going to want a place to come home to where I can relax and do what I want to do. So I might not need a large bedroom, but I'll want a good sized, high quality bed. I don't see myself hosting parties, so perhaps not the biggest living room or more guest rooms than I'd need, but I like having space to work with in the kitchen. And I'd want a tub like this to soak in after work, and a stall for showering. A fairly simple place, I suppose, but with a few luxuries. If I'm going to be a firefighter, I'll need somewhere to rest and recuperate between shifts."  Anya answered at length, placing the bath bomb into the tub.

Clarke could easily imagine the place in her mind, and approved. She preferred home to be home, and to spend more time with friends and family outside of the house, so that aligned with her tastes. A comfy bed was always a plus, and she wasn't a fan of cramped kitchens, having grown up with one.

"Sounds like a nice place. Maybe I'll stop by sometimes." Clarke noted playfully, biting her lip as she imagined a lot of evenings like this spent together. It was an appealing prospect.

"Who knows, maybe I'll..." Anya began, smiling wryly as she turned her head, only for the words to die in her throat as she turned her head to Clarke. If not for the whimper that escaped Anya, if not for the sheer yearning in her valentine's eyes, she might have waited for a clearer sign, but as it was, Clarke felt all too happy to saunter over to her date, hands resting at Anya's hips.

"So, you mind if I wait inside for you?" She asked cheekily, earning a silent nod as Anya reached down and took hold of her hand, offering politeness more than an actual sense of stability as she stepped over the high walls of the tub and into the delightfully hot water. "Mmmn, lovely."

Anya's eyes never left her as her valentine hastily undressed; it wasn't the most seductive show in the world, but seeing how desperate Anya was to get in there with her warmed her heart, and she nearly melted at the feeling of Anya cuddling up against her in the tub, there being just enough room for her date to squeeze in sideways beside her a little bit.

"Happy Valentine's Day, darling." Anya murmured, head dipping to rest atop Clarke's shoulder.

Clarke carefully snaked her arms around Anya, holding her close as she tilted her head down, pressing a lingering kiss to her dirty blonde hair. "Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, baby."

Maybe Mondays weren't always so bad after all.


End file.
